


Love at Second Sight

by ItinerantAvthor



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Idiots in Love, Jim forgets they're married for a hot minute, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Space Husbands, Spock shakes his head a lot, T'hy'la, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 10:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17282618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItinerantAvthor/pseuds/ItinerantAvthor
Summary: Jim had always been the self-sacrificing kind. After being wounded while protecting Spock planetside, he goes under for surgery. When he comes back up, he's forgotten Spock - and their marriage. (Based on the video where the guy wakes up from surgery and immediately starts hitting on his wife.)





	Love at Second Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Yep I did totally write another temporary amnesia fic to distract myself from the WIP that refuses to be written!! And yep the title is pretty much exactly the same as the last one!! This time featuring out-of-it Jim and exasperated Spock. This has not been beta read, so all mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading!

Jim had always been the self-sacrificing kind. Always on the front lines of any away mission, always stepping up whenever there was a chance to take the heat for someone. He never backed down from the opportunity to take a bullet, literally or figuratively. Spock understood on an intellectual level that his husband was the way he was because of a myriad of tragedies, a patchwork of betrayal and anger and loss that only made him kind; still, he wished that Jim would “grow some common sense” as Leonard so aptly muttered. 

He sighed and swept his gaze up and down Jim’s form once more, eyeing him carefully for any further injuries. Now that the captain was settled in medbay, Spock knew he would be alright, and certainly did not need to engage his anxieties or worries any further. However, Spock was first and foremost Jim’s bondmate - for better or for worse, he was worried about him, whatever he might tell Dr. McCoy.

Now quiet and still, Jim breathed deeply and evenly on the biobed. His eyes were closed, face peaceful and vulnerable. Spock usually loved to watch his husband sleep, loved to count his freckles, loved to see that the weight of the Enterprise could not weigh Jim down in unconsciousness, loved to touch so reverently the fluttering eyelashes and the tip of his nose and his chin. But here? Medbay always meant that one of them was injured, and Spock had come to loathe it down here, as clean and quiet and welcoming as it always was. So even though Jim looked lovely and soft sleeping here in front of him, Spock distrusted it and wished, not for the first time, that Jim would just wake up.

“He still out?” a gruff Southern drawl brought him out of his thoughts. With a swift glance up, Spock found Dr. McCoy standing at his shoulder, looking down at Jim with the kind of frown that usually meant that the doctor was worried.

“Indeed.” Spock settled himself more comfortably on the chair he’d pulled up next to the biobed. Hesitantly, he looked back up. “Thank you, Leonard,” he added softly.

Dr. McCoy briefly glanced at him, eyes glistening, before returning his scowling gaze to Jim. “What even happened down there?” he demanded, and Spock politely ignored the doctor wiping his face with the back of one hand. 

“The Captain beamed down with myself and the Botany team for our routine plant-life check. When I looked up from conferring with Ensign Jamil, a sentient growth began to move toward us to attack. I called out to Jim…” here he faltered as he replayed that moment over again. Spock cleared his throat and continued in a rasping voice, “I called out to him, and as it reached out to pierce myself and the Ensign, Jim threw himself in front of it.” He hung his head in shame and defeat at the memory. 

“Hey, now,” Dr. McCoy said, gentle and low, dropping into the chair next to Spock. “He’s gonna be just fine. Sure, he’s a damn fool for stepping in front of that sentient plant-thing, but it missed his vital organs. In fact, it’s almost miraculous how little damage it did, ‘specially seeing how sharp that thing was. Still, surgery’ll take it out of him for awhile. He’ll be alright, I promise, Spock. It ain’t your fault he’s always jumping to the rescue for someone or other.”

Spock only nodded once, tensely. After a quiet moment, the doctor excused himself and told the First Officer, very sternly, to get some rest himself, or he would have Chapel come in and give him a “good dose of what for.” Spock wasn’t sure what “what for” was, but he assured Dr. McCoy that he would meditate and rest until Jim awoke.

When they were alone once more, Spock reached out gingerly and took Jim’s hand in his own, rubbing his first two fingers along his husband’s knuckles in gentle, apologetic Vulcan kisses. Determined to stay sharp for whenever Jim awoke and needed him, Spock retracted his hand and settled into light meditation. With each breath his muscles relaxed further and he cleared his mind of unnecessarily human anxiety, focusing his mental energy on how to keep his t’hy’la from such danger again and how to care for Jim when he awakened.

One hundred and twenty five minutes and fourteen seconds had passed when Spock was startled out of a nap by a noise. Annoyed, he scolded himself for falling asleep when he should have been awake and alert at his bondmate’s side, especially when Jim was so fragile. 

It had been Jim who made the noise - something in between a grunt and a whimper. He turned his head this way and that ever so slightly, a frown creasing his heavy brows even though his eyes stayed shut. 

“Jim,” Spock whispered, brushing blond hair away from his husband’s eyes. 

Slowly Jim blinked, once, twice, gaze fixed on the ceiling where muted lighting cast shadows. 

“‘ereamI,” Jim mumbled, tongue heavy behind his teeth. 

Spock cleared his throat. 

“Captain,” he said, his voice steady and firm. “You are in medbay aboard the Enterprise. How are you feeling?”

Jim tilted his head haphazardly to the right. His eyes finally landed on Spock’s hovering face, and they brightened perceptibly when he found the First Officer so close.

“Goddamn,” he breathed, and his head jerked back as if surprised. 

“Captain, you’ve just awoken from surgery. Please eat this, as Dr. McCoy has requested that you do so as soon as you gained consciousness.” Spock tried to sound professional, impersonal, not at all concerned or worried for his husband’s well-being. He was sure he succeeded. As he handed over the thin wafer, an anti-nausea solution veiled as a cracker so that difficult patients - i.e., Jim - could be persuaded to take their medicine, Spock was careful to keep their hands from touching.

Jim took it and nibbled the corner, but his wide eyes never left Spock’s face. They were glassy and unfocused; Spock deduced that he was not in a lucid state. 

“Are you a nurse?” Jim asked, tiny crumbs spraying out of his mouth as he spoke. Spock cringed and brushed them away quickly from Jim’s blankets. 

“Do you not remember me? Or the… the incident on Ghesh?” 

Jim simply blinked. Shoulders tensing, Spock felt panic rise in his throat. What if Dr. McCoy had done something wrong, given Jim the wrong dosage of medications during the surgery to keep him tranquil, and it had done irreparable damage to his mind, to his memories? What if the plant had deposited some kind of venom into Jim’s system when it punctured him through and through? What if he had hit his head in the blink of an eye, when Spock wasn’t looking? What if -

“You’re so beautiful.” Jim interrupted his husband’s frantic thoughts with the slurred compliment.

Spock froze, then frowned slightly down at him.

“Thank you?” he responded, his head tilted just so in a manner that, had Jim been completely lucid at the time, would have invited gentle teasing.

_Do you find me fascinating, Mr. Spock?_ he could just imagine Jim saying, a coy grin on his lips.

“Goddamn, they gave me the most beautifulest nurse in the whole hospital,” Jim mumbled. The cracker was mere inches away from his face but completely forgotten.

Spock’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed the PADD at the end of Jim’s biobed and pulled up the list of drugs used during the surgery. Scrolling through, Spock could hear Jim’s breathing, slow and steady, even as he felt the weight of his husband’s stare. 

Ah. Amarnathexine. A sedative that usually had no side effects, except upon the one person in the entire galaxy who had a list of allergies the length of Spock’s arm. _Uncommon side effects include temporary amnesia_ , he read with a squint; _contact a doctor immediately if symptoms persist for more than one hour_. Spock grimaced. He certainly would.

“Jim,” Spock sighed, then, “Captain,” he corrected himself. “You are currently experiencing the side effects of a drug known as Amarnathexine. It causes temporary amnesia. I will -”

“Do you know me?” Jim interrupted again. The cracker was dangerously close to falling out of his grasp.

Spock’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly. “Yes,” he said simply. Deciding that it was best to simply wait out the symptoms, he sighed once more and instructed Jim to “just eat your cracker.”

Immediately he complied, taking a modest bite out of the pale wafer. Jim did not stop watching Spock.

His face softened as he saw - and felt quite clearly through their bond - that Jim wanted some sort of direction out of him.

“Please, drink some water,” he said, and helped lift Jim’s head so he could drink easily.

Jim, for his part, looked starstruck at being touched by Spock.

“You’re so so beautiful,” he murmured when Spock pulled the cup away from Jim’s lips. They were glistening wet with water that he managed to spill even with his very precise Vulcan helping him.

Spock could not help the slight quirk to his lips. “You have said so already,” he pointed out, laying Jim’s head carefully back on the pillow.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” Jim asked, and Spock could feel the innocent eagerness emanating off of him in waves, bond or no.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” Spock said, bringing his hands back to his lap. Jim looked disappointed.

“I bet she’s as beautiful as you are,” he pouted. Spock shook his head, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the smile he would not allow on his mouth.

“He is very handsome,” he corrected.

Jim’s eyes widened in astonishment. “You’re with a dude?” he asked in incredulous wonder.

Spock shook his head. “Jim, I am married to you,” he said, fond exasperation sneaking through his voice. Jim looked even more shocked.

“You,” he gestured with the forgotten cracker, “you’re married to me?” He pointed to himself with the thin wafer, and several crumbs flew into his face with the force of his gesticulation. He didn’t even seem to notice. “We’re married, you and me?” 

“Yes, Jim,” Spock said, and his lips jumped and danced in a way that warned him he was very close to grinning in a very human show of emotion.

“Wow,” Jim said, face glowing with wonder as he stared into the middle distance, somewhere over the edge of the biobed towards his feet. Then his gaze swung back to Spock, and a slow, sweet smile grew on his mouth.

“How long have we been married for?” he asked.

Spock didn’t answer right away. “Eat your cracker,” he insisted, watching with amusement as Jim followed instructions immediately, meek as a small child. “We have been married for two years, three months, and five days,” Spock said finally as he watched Jim munch on the last of the thin cracker. 

As out of it as he was, Jim was still able to manage a fairly good shit-eating grin. “Have we kissed yet?” he asked slyly.

Spock shook his head fondly and finally did smile, a small smile that was meant for Jim alone when he was being foolish and impossible and so very un-Vulcan.

“Yes, we have kissed, Jim,” he said, and helped him take another sip of water.

“Do we have any kids?” Jim asked when Spock laid him gently back down on the bed. He’d returned to that innocent, eager, beautifully open look that melted Spock’s heart in his side.

“Not yet, ashaya,” he answered softly, brushing Jim’s hair out of his face with gentle touches. “It is not something we have discussed very much, as we are in the middle of a five-year mission.”

Jim made a grunting sound in his throat. “We’re in space,” he said dreamily.

Spock nodded in the affirmative and continued to softly card his fingers through Jim’s golden hair. He watched as Jim closed his eyes with contented bliss, a beautiful smile resting on his lips, and felt a rush of affection, warmth, and love flow through their bond. He might not have known they were married, but their bond was still very much intact. Relieved, Spock pressed a Vulcan kiss to Jim’s temple.

“Rest now, k’diwa,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Jim struggled against the sleep that so evidently attempted to lure him into unconsciousness. “Will you be here when I wake up?” he asked, clumsily reaching for Spock’s hand. 

Of course he didn’t know how… _lewd_ the gesture was, Spock remembered with a blush as Jim interlaced their fingers. 

“Yes, Jim, I shall still be here,” Spock reassured him, jade flushing across his cheek bones and lighting the tips of his ears on fire. “Sleep now, please.”

Sighing contentedly, Jim closed his eyes and soon fell asleep. His bow-like lips were parted just slightly as he breathed, in and out, easy and simple. Spock shook his head once more at the impossible man before him; he went to retrieve his hand from the loose grip that held him, then changed his mind and linked their pinkies together so they remained connected. He settled back into the chair and waited quietly until Jim would awake once again, smiling softly down at his t’hy’la as he slept.


End file.
